


Putting the Pieces Together

by cutiebiz



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6869353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiebiz/pseuds/cutiebiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some little unrelated fics that I've posted on other sites that I wanted to share with the archive. Tags will probably change over time...so be aware :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Our Daughter"

Sherlock always had trouble calling John’s daughter _his_ daughter. Even though he and John had raised her together and even though she called him “dad," he simply never felt comfortable with taking credit for the beautiful sweet girl that _John_ and _Mary_ had produced.

John was quite insistent that he take ownership.

“You’ve been my husband and her other dad since she was a titch!” he’d complain.

“I had nothing to do with her conception nor did I assist in the grueling months of pregnancy nor hours of labor,” Sherlock would retort, pulling the goggles over his face in a gesture of finality.

  
It wasn’t that he didn’t love her as his own, because he _did_ … but nothing that was ever his stayed happy and well for very long… _his_ blogger had been a blessed exception and the odds were not in his favor…

  
It was when Sherlock and John go on a double date with her and her boyfriend that he notices the flush of her skin and the softness in her voice had changed… and her appetite….

He had seen something like this on the night of John and Mary’s wedding…

The boyfriend had potential that Sherlock had every intention of squeezing out of him in order for him to be good enough for her… John hated him, but from the looks of things, he’d have to get over it.

  
She notices her other father staring at her and gives him a private little smile that Sherlock finds himself returning… _His_ little girl was grown up now…

  
After dinner, once the younger couple had gotten into their car and driven away, Sherlock puts his arm around John.  
“She’s pregnant,” he says flatly.  
“Who?” John asks looking around.  
Sherlock pauses and then says “ _Our_ daughter.”  
John stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and then smiles.  
“ ‘Our daughter’” then his smile drops, suddenly realizing what his husband just said. “Oh fuck.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are GOLD! Feel free to send me any constructive criticism or comments :)


	2. Dance

“So,” Mycroft said. “Did you dance?”  
“To when are you referring?” Sherlock shot back, knowing damn well when his brother was referring to but irritated with where this conversation was going.  
“You know little brother,” the older Holmes chastised, removing his gloves and flagging down a waitress.  
When Sherlock stubbornly said nothing, he rolled his eyes and said “At John’s wedding… you know, your…friend?”  
The way he said “friend” implied a knowledgeable smirk and it hit Sherlock straight in the heart that he denied he had (well the organ was irrefutable, but the sentiment fabled to be contained in said organ was a whole different matter). He stared at his hands on the table, remembering how he had wanted to dance….He had wanted to dance with John…but that place that he had never claimed had been filled… He had always thought that he had more time….  
“No, I was too busy with the arrangements. Hurry up and give me the file you’ve been so insufferable about.”  
“That’s a shame… You’ve always been such a good dancer… Word around the campfire says that you actually taught Dr. Watson how before the wedding.”  
 _Damn Mrs. Hudson and her twittering…_  
He remembered the day that she walked in on one of their lessons. Sherlock had been holding John closer than he had ever allowed himself to… had been taking in the smell, feel and warmth of John pressed up against him knowing that this opportunity would likely be his last. He had closed his eyes letting his cheek rest against John’s, feeling the shorter man’s breath against his neck. That was when the landlady had so graciously burst into the room suddenly looking shocked and confused, like a bird after crashing into a window.  
“Oh! I’ll come back later!”  
“No. Mrs Hudson, it’s not-” John sputtered.  
But she had already left and shut the door behind her.  
The two men stood staring at where she had been, still holding each other, hands still linked. Sherlock took that last moment to gaze at John from so close, studying every detail so that Sherlock could tuck it away in his mind palace to be treasured for the rest of his life.   
“Oh… she’ll definitely talk…” John had said, gently pulling away from him. “I’d better go and see what she wanted.”  
Sherlock had a fleeting desire to grip onto John more tightly.  
 _Please don’t go_ he had thought _please, I need more time… just one more moment…Mary will have forever...so just one. more. moment._  
But he let John go… he had to… because he _loved_ John and John wanted to go.

“Well,” Mycroft’s annoying voice cut through Sherlock’s memory. “You can always dance at _your_ wedding!”   
He had let out a little chuckle at his obvious joke while Sherlock listed off ancient methods of torture in his head. Mycroft handed him a file and said “Now, this is _very_ important, brother dear. I need you to-”  
“Yes I’ll look at it,” Sherlock said noncommittally, snatching the file from his hand and resolutely deciding at that moment that he was NEVER going to look at it. He then stood up and walked out of the restaurant.  
When he got back to the flat he tossed it in a pile of other things he’d never read.   
_There. Revenge._

Mycroft had been right. Sherlock _did_ dance at his wedding. After a small and intimate ceremony, Sherlock had John in his arms on the dance floor, hugging him close and letting his hands rove freely over strong shoulders, and John held him back, their foreheads resting together.  
“You’re a very good dancer, Dr. Watson,” he said, giving John a tiny kiss on the corner of his mouth.  
“Thank you. My husband taught me,” John replied before kissing Sherlock softly on the mouth.  
And Sherlock let himself enjoy it thoroughly knowing that this moment would only happen once, but there would be many more like it in the future.

When they had returned home after the honeymoon, John was doing some much needed spring cleaning, rummaging through the pile of papers that lay neglected all over the flat when he came across a thin file.   
“Sherlock, this looks like Mycroft’s…”  
“It is.”  
“ You put it in your ‘Siberia’ pile.”  
“Yes.”  
“Sherlock, that could have been a matter of national security!”  
“Well whatever it was he obviously took care of it himself.”  
John sighed, not without affection and flipped open the file. His silence is what made Sherlock curious. He came to John’s side and looked at the single photograph, a small note written in Mycroft’s hand sitting atop it.   
It was a picture from Mycroft’s “surveillance” no doubt… Looking through the window of their flat…. It was their dance lesson…Sherlock’s back was to the window and John was facing the window… his cheek against Sherlock’s, his eyes closed in sad yearning.  
The note read:  
 _“You will dance again, little brother.”_


End file.
